Violet trudged off the bus and sighed as she tucked her iPod into her workbag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a zippo lighter. She sparked a smoke and started walking towards the office building where she spent most of her days in a living hell.
After she finished high school, Ben and Vivian deemed it necessary for Violet to find a full-time job and get a taste of independence. Naïve and determined, she browsed endlessly through the listings on Craigslist until she found something that required no qualifications or experience. She landed a job at LA Accounts Recovery, a collections agency.
She survived the first week of training where they reviewed calls from senior collectors, learned how to analyze credit reports, how to deal with consumers going bankrupt, how to refer consumers to high risk loan sharks, and on and on. Her trainer, Cher, was a fifty-something-year-old with greying hair and a lazy eye. Training was awful, not only because Violet never knew which of Cher's eyes to look at, but also because her trainer drank from a coffee mug that had three little kittens on the front.
Today was like any other day; Violet would arrive outside the office at 7:45 a.m. with bleary eyes, clutching a cigarette between two fingers. She would make small talk with the other collectors outside and then she would walk in and get her computer started.
She got her first call of the day as soon as she had punched in on the computer and logged on to the system. The phone rang three times before she decided to answer.
"Violet Harmon with LA Accounts Recovery, how can I help you?" This script was practically engraved into her soul. She might as well have it written on her tombstone.
"Hi there," A gruff voice spoke, the man sounding as if he had just been ripped from his slumber, "I keep getting calls from you people and I'd like to know what this is about."
Violet loved when consumers referred to her as you people, it was a classic, passive-aggressive statement.
"Sure, what was the phone number we called you at?" Violet replied.
"You can't see it on your call display?" The man replied, clearly becoming agitated.
Violet stopped herself before her eyes rolled into oblivion. "No. You're calling from a blocked number. If I could get your telephone number, I'll try to look it up on the system"
The man slurred a string of unintelligible digits, making Violet's fingers scramble on the keyboard.
"Let's try that again, but slower this time." Violet kept her composure, speaking with a monotonous tone like she always used with consumers.
The man sighed, repeating his number again, slowly like Violet had requested.
Violet typed his number in and waited until the files loaded on the screen.
"It seems like we have an account for a Tate Langdon. Is this you?"
Another sigh from the man. "Yeah, that's me." His voice became weary.
Violet began another script. "Well, it looks as if there is an outstanding balance under your name that has come into the office. Seems like you received twenty-five parking fines under your name."
"Well, I do declare." The man spoke, mimicking a southern accent.
"Before I discuss the details of your account, I need you to verify your middle initial." Violet spoke again, drumming her impatient fingers on the computer desk.
"Listen, Violet is it?" The man continued when he heard Violet's affirmation, "I know all about these tickets, save your breath. I have no intentions of paying this account. I'm going to leave it here in your office for sentimental reasons."
Violet was practically grinning as the man spoke, she loved dealing with feisty consumers, and she was preparing to rip this guy a new one.
"Listen to me Tate. Parking fines don't just go away, they will sit here in collections and rot. If you don't have any intentions of paying this amount, that's fine, but I will be giving my recommendations to the City of Los Angeles, and you will be placed on a tow order." Violet kept her voice monotone and crossed her arms together once she finished her speech, waiting for this Tate guy to counter back.
There was a momentary pause followed by a breathy chuckle on the other end of the line that made Violet's flesh break out in goose bumps. She hated to admit that this asshole sounded attractive.
"Listen princess," Tate sounded like he was preparing her for a lecture, "I know all about parking tickets. Why would I pay this account when I could easily change my license plate for fifteen bucks and avoid the tow order completely?"
"If you want to willfully evade these tickets, that's fine. However, we will be calling you each and every day until you decide to resolve these accounts." Violet snapped, shifting in her seat from impatience.
She looked up and noticed her friend Samuel was grinning at her from his cubicle. He mouthed the words need any help? Violet shook her head as she waited for Tate's response.
"Well, as long as the calls are coming from you, I can't complain," Tate chuckled, "I imagine you being a feisty little blonde."
"How is this relevant to your account?" Violet asked, growing uncomfortable.
"How old are you?" Tate replied, his voice became raspy and Violet swore she heard a zipper being lowered. Moments later, she heard a groan escape from the man's lips.
Violet slammed her phone down on to the receiver and let out a noise of distaste, startling her surrounding co-workers and making her manager glance up from his desk.
"Long day at the office?" Samuel asked, raising his eyebrows.
"That fucker used my voice as a masturbatory tool." Violet gritted the words through her teeth.
"Such swine." Samuel shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee as he flipped through the files on his desk.
Violet leaned back into her chair, groaning as she rubbed at her eyes. After a few minutes she leaned forwards and began to type out notes into this guys file, omitting the part where he mistook Violet for a phone sex operator. Once she had finished writing the details of their conversation, she statused the file as No Intentions to Pay.
Naturally, Violet's manager decided to pull her aside before she had the chance to step out for a coffee break.
"Do you remember speaking to Tate Langdon, was it?" Her manager, Patrick asked.
Violet felt her cheeks flush and nodded an affirmation, not trusting her voice.
"I need you to keep his file on your desk—" Patrick started, but was interrupted when Violet barked out a response.
"That man has no intentions to pay!" Violet cried out, "He's experienced with this kind of stuff and he knows all about the license plate trick."
"Which is exactly why you need to pin him down," Patrick replied, "I'm quite familiar with this consumer; he owns Red Arrow Performance which is a company all about acquiring high end collector vehicles."
"Well, that fucker certainly has enough money to pay off his bills." Violet shook her head and crossed her arms.
"The City of Los Angeles knows all about this consumer as well, and they're just itching to tow his fancy sports car," Patrick grinned, "So, if you're able to work the file and either have him pay it off or have him towed, say hello to the raise you've been bitching about."
Violet grinned from ear to ear, giving her manager a wink before heading outside for a well deserved cigarette.